26: Those famous doors

There is nothing I hate more then carrying my son through those ER doors. I have seen them way too many times in just his first month of life. The very first time I took that walk from the car to those doors I gripped the handle on his carrier tightly, held my breath and walked in. I never thought I would have to visit this place with Ryan, but there we were. It was the weirdest feeling. Everyone looks up at you. You can hear the lady in the back of the room saying, "Oh the poor baby I wonder what is wrong."

I know it sounds crazy now but the first visit to the ER was over bowel movements. Ryan had about 10 of them in about 2 hours. I am pretty sure the doctors and nurses laughed at me after I had left. Every time someone would walk in they would make the same remark, "You're a first time mom huh?" But I knew deep inside that there was something wrong, something they couldn't see, hear, or touch.

The next time we made the walk through those doors was about two weeks later. The frequent bowel movements had stopped, I mean stopped all together. No more dirty diapers for me. They were replaced by constant vomiting. From the local ER we were rushed to a Children's Hospital to learn that Ryan had pyloric stenosis. The muscle that connects his stomach to his intestines had closed off. He had become dehydrated and needed surgery. Lets just say I saw a lot of doors in this place.

Now four months later, you think I would be use to those glass doors. Lets be honest, they still scare the shit out of me.

So there I stood, Ryan laying in his carrier; coughing, wheezing, unable to breath, outside those doors. I tighten my grip on the carrier, repositioned the diaper bag on my shoulder, took a deep breath and walked in. It was warm, or was it just me? I walk over and sign in. Ryan and me take a seat and wait to be called in. I wipe away the boogers running down his nose and lightly kiss his forehead.

I took him to the doctors on Monday and all I was told was he had a little wheeze and here's a prescription he will be fine. If he will be fine then why am I in the ER waiting room holding a wheezing baby, who's chest I can feel is rattling like crazy?

"Ryan."

We walk to the back. "We need to take x-rays of his chest." Okay, x-rays I can deal with, but isn't this just a normal cold? After being strapped into a clear tube and having his chest x-rayed we learn that Ryan doesn't have a normal cold. He has bronchitis. So we get sent home with four prescriptions.

I know its not the end of the world, but you should see my poor little man. His eyes are red from crying and little sleep. He is hungry but vomits everything he eats. He hasn't slept very well in days. He can't breath and hates when I clean his nose out. Which doesn't do any good cause after sucking all the yuckies out he ends up crying and his nose just ends up stuffed up again.

Right now I am hoping for a very quick recovery. He really needs some sleep.